Posts Tagged ‘mental health’
Watching Amy
We watched the documentary, “Amy” last night, about singer Amy Winehouse, and it triggered a recurring sadness for me that you can’t instantly remedy whatever it is that drives a person to make unhealthy coping choices. You can send love to those who are hurting, but if they aren’t able to love themselves, health and healing can only wait on the sidelines to be invited in.
I’ve had moments of grandeur where I thought the environment we have created at Wintervale, the horses, the labyrinth garden, wooded trails, and our dog & cat, combined with the life experience and emotional intelligence Cyndie and I have gained, could serve as an intrinsic salve to any and all who visit.
Reality isn’t that simple. I have had opportunity to discover my acquired peace doesn’t automatically transform others merely by proximity. I found that it is possible not only for me to be helpless about inducing healing in another, but I am as susceptible as anyone to being drawn down by contagious unhealthy energies.
Being a positive healing influence on the world is something that requires definite effort.
Detangling from a general pattern of unhealthy behaviors requires a definite choice. We have to make an informed decision to change our life for the better. It doesn’t happen by just spending some time at a healthy place.
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The movie about Amy Winehouse includes a significant amount of footage showing the frenzy of paparazzi she faced. It was tough to witness. Nobody deserves that abuse. Take a moment to cherish the anonymity that allows for normal daily life.
Cyndie and I were talking about situations of celebrity hounding and recalled the amazing surprise we felt years ago, when we spotted Eric Clapton on a street in Chicago, unnoticed by anyone but us. We were killing time on a weekday visit and strolling the shops along The Magnificent Mile, or possibly some side street just off Michigan Avenue, when two guys stepped out the door of some apparel shop.
They were carrying large bags of their purchases, which was one of the first aspects that caught my eye. Two guys on a little afternoon clothes shopping expedition? Seemed somewhat off gender-usual to me.
As my surveying glance traveled up to their faces, I wasn’t able to mask my shocked recognition at the face of one of my musical idols, just inches away. In a split second, I chose to avoid spoiling Mr. Clapton’s moment of walking the street like any anonymous bloke.
As they passed I looked at Cyndie and she was looking at me with that same wide-eyed shock over who was walking by. It didn’t seem possible. We immediately began debating our decision of not saying anything to him.
I consoled myself with the vision I will never forget: the look on Eric Clapton’s face when he saw our shocked expressions and knew he’d been recognized, …yet not hassled.
I wonder if Amy Winehouse ever enjoyed the pleasure of being recognized, but not hassled, in the brief time after her music became wildly popular.
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General Goodness
It’s been a quiet day in Lake Wo-Wintervale-begon. The weather was mild all weekend, the trail cam continues to capture rabbits and squirrels, and progress on my wood sculpting art project has advanced, but not enough to stand out in pictures. Trust me. I considered showing them here today, but the results were too emphatically underwhelming.
The horses have been emanating incredibly peaceful vibes, Delilah is mostly behaving, and Pequenita endlessly seeks hands-on attention from me. Cyndie has been extraordinarily productive with creative abundance from her kitchen. I stand around wondering how to at least be ‘above average,’ never sure how to achieve the ‘good looking’ descriptor that Mr. Keillor tosses around.
We’re at one of those points where, in my past life, I would respond with a multitude of reasons for a gloomy outlook. It is a precious thing to have forged a path above and beyond that inclination, and to be able to relax and absorb the absence of dilemma today; to actually feel joyous, in fact.
Sure, the Check Engine Light still comes on in my car after every time the shop resets it, but I’m not stressin’ that. It is what it is. Things are mighty fine in general, and being able to appreciate that goodness, without struggling so to do, is icing on a cake that I get to have, and eat, too!
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Good Thing
Activity in our kitchen is back to normal, now that Cyndie is home. When I walked in the door from a day at work yesterday, my nose was greeted by a simmering ham roast in the slow cooker, two side dishes baking in the oven, and a fresh loaf of home-baked cranberry/orange/walnut bread and plum crumble dessert cooling on the counter.
George was coming over for dinner. I went to start a fire in the fireplace, but noticed we needed to bring in more firewood. That meant I would need to shovel a path to the firewood rack on the deck.
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The food Cyndie prepared was fit for serving a royal feast. To heck with counting sugar grams or total calories. I ate it all, and then some.
We enjoyed dessert in front of the fire, where we lingered long while pondering the fragility of mental health in a wandering trail of tales, eventually feeling as if we had gone full-circle and discovered connections in otherwise seemingly dissimilar situations.
There is always hope possible in times that seem hopeless. If it is not easily available for the grasping, it can be cultivated, when the essential willingness is on hand.
It remains to be seen whether the hopes and remote support seeds we planted will produce desired results in the long run. In the mean time, the fine food and fellowship we shared and enjoyed was a heck of a good thing for the three of us.
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Greatest Discovery
As I was driving home from work yesterday, I became aware of an absence of a gloomy pall which had been working its way over me for a couple of days prior. Even though few circumstances actually improved, my mental state had.
That is a testament to the greatest discovery I ever made. Many years ago, I identified my depression. Becoming aware of my depression allowed me to take action toward treating it. Treating my depression has led to every improvement in health I have achieved since.
Through daily adherence to my personal “program” of thoughts and actions that specifically counteract my depressive tendencies, I now manage my mental health without prescription medication or professional psychological support. I originally used both to find my way out of the darkness.
I still find myself surprised when the things I’ve learned to do, like catching my negative self-talk and ending it, or cultivating love for others and projecting it, produce such tangible results.
It is well-known, and usually rather obvious, that people’s energies are contagious. Individuals have widely varying levels of tendencies to be an influencer or the influenced.
If you haven’t seen the viral video by Shea Glover, People react to being called beautiful, check it out to see how quickly, and mostly involuntarily, people react to a positive verbal message. Imagine if we sent that same message to everyone, nonverbally from our hearts.
Be the influencer. Send love.
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Horse Peace
One of the many things I like about our horses is the fact they don’t reflect back to me anything that outrageous politicians say, nor cruelties unleashed by demented terrorists. To stand among the herd in their pasture, there is no sense whatsoever of headline grabbing non-celebrities, no road-raging selfish drivers forcing their anxieties in every direction, no pharmaceutical advertisers listing sickening numbers of possible side effects with encouragement to ask my doctor if their product is right for me.
Nothing but eons of evolved horse sense, and all the peace that comes with that.
It is a priceless gift.
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Feeling Sick
It occurs to me on occasion that my sense of comfort with the prospect of my death may be a result of so many years of living with depression. It is not a topic that people are generally comfortable about allowing their focus.
Frankly, I long ago learned through treatment of my depression that allowing myself to fantasize my death was something I must control, essentially eliminating it from my mental processes. I am happy to report that I am able to do that successfully, with impressive results.
Nonetheless, I sense the possibility that my years of considering the concept of my death have left me with a residual peace over the prospect of my eventual demise. I will point out, however, that it holds a dramatically different frame of reference when viewed from a healthy mindset.
Yesterday, I left work a little early because the pesky cold that has been ever so slowly gaining a foothold in my poor innocent body was sapping my interest in functioning. Upon reaching the sanctity of home, I walked directly into our bedroom and curled up under the bedspread, seeking nothing except warmth, darkness, and quiet.
I noticed a passing feeling of contentedness with the idea of falling into a permanent sleep. It’s remarkable, really, to imagine such a mental reaction to the very familiar symptoms of a common cold, but in that moment of fatigue, part of me was ready to leave everything behind for good.
The mind and body are an amazing, integrated system. Part of me was stoically expending energy to maintain a normal work-week routine, defying the uninvited consequences of biological warfare being waged in my cells. After several days of slowly intensifying symptoms, my incredibly strong mental yearning for absolute rest contributed in overwhelming my resolve.
I shall spend this day at home, resting, to rebuild my energies. No doubt, doing so will reclaim the enthusiastic zest for living to which I have grown accustomed in the days since I embarked on my path toward improved mental health.
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Embracing Impermanence
I have been encountering a recurring theme of late that is causing me to ponder my desire for order in my daily routines. Also, for constancy in the products for which I grow fond. Most times, I don’t want ‘new and improved.’ I just want more of what I had the first time.
There is a measuring cup in the kitchen that I have started to use every day, now that I am measuring portions of many foods, especially the all-too-sweet cereals I passionately love. I open the middle drawer, and there it is —most of the time.
If Cyndie has been baking, it could require a search.
I tend to experience greater pleasure when my developed methods glide seamlessly along like a well-conducted orchestral piece. If it runs into turbulence, I might alter my tactics to improve the flow. Basically, I look to simplify effort, probably toward something that would align closely to a style that could justifiably be viewed as lazy.
This probably explains why I am not big on the tasks involved with meal preparation.
It is occurring to me that I will probably be better served to work on honing my skills of adaptation to the constant variations that are a reality of life, instead of always pining to have things be where I expect to find them, clean and in good working order.
Sometimes, you discover that the tire is flat. People call in sick for their shift at work. It rains when it was forecast to be sunny. The manufacturer has discontinued a favorite tool/appliance/car/shoe/food/article of clothing.
The climate is proving to be in much greater flux than most people wanted to believe. Plants and animals go extinct. Millions of people get forced to flee their homeland, becoming a sea of immigrants.
Seriously, when wasn’t change a constant, despite what our minds have a tendency to perceive?
Maybe I can find a way to nurture that feeling of pleasure I usually get from orderly routines, to also manifest in the face of unanticipated complications. They are vivid examples the universe is alive and breathing, and I still am, too. It’s a reality that I am coming to believe is not worth fighting against. Conversely, I think learning to celebrate the aberrations should offer nothing but greater peace of mind.
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Cultivating Authenticity
In the everyday reality of each passing moment, we are constantly choosing, consciously or otherwise, our personal energy, which we project outward to every living being in our vicinity. For decades of my life, my energy was unconsciously that of a depressed individual. Sometimes it was encased within a facade of “I’m okay,” but the supposed ‘okay’ me was not whole.
In the years since I began managing my depression, I have continually discovered new levels of awareness about my mind and body. In the very normal fluctuating rates of change and growth, there are periods that stand out. The recent days of preparation for the visit from our friends, the Morales family, and the splendid excitement of our time together again after they arrived, have generated a terrific boost of energy for Cyndie and me.
Granted, we are all a bit drained from lack of sleep, due to all the fun we have had, but that is a recoverable circumstance. We are feeling a significant surge of progress toward crafting the framework of how we might best express the essence of the growth and learning we want to make available at Wintervale Ranch. Dunia and Marco Morales have helped immensely with inspiring this surge.
In the wee hours yesterday morning, Marco and their sons began the long day of travel, flying back to their home in Guatemala. Dunia is spending another week here to work with Cyndie and our horses, and help lead some training sessions.
When I pulled up the driveway yesterday after work, I spotted Cyndie and Dunia in the arena space, along with our neighbor, Rachael Walker, who was providing her counsel and guidance in getting the horses ready for Cyndie to begin riding again. For the first time since the horses arrived here, and 10-months after a hip replacement, Cyndie was back in the saddle.
With our horses as guides, I am discovering new insights about cultivating authenticity.
These feel like noteworthy milestones for us on this journey of creating Wintervale Ranch to become the place we have imagined.
Having written that, it comes to mind that I have a sense from the horses that they have been patiently allowing us to take all the time we needed to reach these milestones, while they have been ready and available all the while.
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Another Storm
Another day, another storm. This one looked much more intense than other recent weather adventures, but it wasn’t nearly the threat it appeared to be. Just as we sat down for dinner, the view out our front window grew as dark as night. Delilah went into her usual tizzy over the approaching thunder.
We received a timid dose of pea-sized hail along with the pouring rain, but the final tally in the rain gauge was far short of anything disastrous, measuring just over 1.5 inches.
When dinner was complete and the storm had passed, we ventured out to survey the aftermath. The sun made a brief appearance to join us and I snapped a couple of photos.
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Cyndie seemed to glow in reflection of her first day at home with time to fully absorb the beautiful paradise that is Wintervale Ranch. She is finally in the element of her true calling and showing signs of being free of the stresses associated with the unrelenting demands of education administration.
I’m hoping that storm has passed for her and that she will now be embraced by a calm aftermath that will rival the beautiful evening we enjoyed last night.
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Relative Something 